


Pool

by RaspberryTree



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Clexaweek2018, F/F, Public Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryTree/pseuds/RaspberryTree
Summary: For Clexa Week 2018.Day 1, “Meet Ugly”: Lexa finds her girlfriend in bed with another woman.





	Pool

Sometimes it surprises people when Lexa tells them her profession. In her years of experience, she's found that the word 'divorce' makes most people squirm. People prefer to hear _family lawyer_. It's gentler on the ears. Family. What a nice, wholesome thing. Divorce is like nails on a chalkboard - a bad memory or a bad feeling. Dissolving assets, resolving custody issues - more words that make people panic. There's a certain stigma attached to divorce attorneys. They're greedy; uncaring; and generally out for their own interests. So Lexa doesn't mind saying she's a family lawyer instead. But honestly? Divorce gets a bad rep.

Lexa isn't a cynic. She believes in selflessness and love. It doesn't make her happy when women sob in her office or when men break apart at the thought of losing their kids. But she's also seen how ugly marriages can get, time and time again. Divorce isn't a treat, but what comes after it? Moving on, rebuilding, loving again? Lexa is a firm believer in that part.

So no: Lexa isn't a cynic.

But today?

Lexa _wishes_ she'd been one.

Maybe it would've prevented her heart from being broken to pieces.

Because really, walking into her apartment and seeing her girlfriend of two years knuckle deep in some buxom blondie fucking _hurts_.

"Lexa!" Emma blurts out. "I t-thought you'd be home late!"

Lexa is speechless for a full minute, staring as Emma struggles to pull her discarded top over her breasts. The blonde woman finally registers the situation, the color draining from her face.

Lexa drops her briefcase to the floor. "Get out," she manages to say.

Emma shakes her head. "Baby, it's not wha—"

"I'm not speaking to _you_ ," Lexa snaps.

The blonde woman scrambles for her clothes, having the decency to look mortified.

Lexa thinks she knows her from somewhere - a café or their local grocery store maybe, but everything blurs together when she sees the marks of Emma's betrayal on her neck. They're red and raw and the worst part is that Lexa had the same marks on her skin just a week ago. She knows exactly how it feels to receive them, how the woman's skin must have been tingling when Emma pressed her lips against that spot.

"Surely you can do this faster," Lexa barks, venom in her tone.

Emma picks up the jeans on the floor to hand them to—

"Clarke, I'm so-" Emma starts, only to be cut off by Lexa's harsh glare.

The woman, Clarke, slips her jeans on with such shaky hands that her cheeks turn red when she realizes her thong is still on the floor and she has to shove it in her pocket. Lexa can't stand how slow she is.

Finally, Clarke grabs her shoes and passes by Lexa with her head bowed.

"I'm so sorry. I—I didn't know," she tells her.

Lexa doesn't watch her leave. She thinks she might kill her if she does. When the front door finally closes, Lexa's eyes slide to Emma. Just this morning, this was the woman she loved. Now? Lexa feels like throwing up.

"We're done."

"Lexa, please," Emma begs. "I made a mistake. Let's talk about this."

"No. This is my lease, my apartment. If you have a _shred_ of respect left for me, pack your shit and get out."

To her credit, Emma doesn't protest any longer, doesn't try to remind Lexa of better times, of how solid their relationship used to be and how they could get through this. It takes her an hour for her to gather all her things, from her clothes to her toiletries to her books, and Lexa feels numb when she finally walks out with a trash bag full of their memories.

Lexa allows herself one breakdown. She falls apart two minutes after Emma leaves, muffling her sobs and one long scream in her jacket. Then, she wipes at her eyes and lets the anger take over.

She throws the bed sheets away and cleans the apartment from floor to ceiling, scrubbing off every inch of Emma's presence. She vacuums the carpets three times. She feels so betrayed that her hands tremble through everything. When she's done she steps into the shower and stays there for thirty minutes, hands pressed against the wall as she tries to breathe properly again. Her eyes water but she's not going to cry again, especially not when she's naked and soaked to the bone. Emma doesn't get to break her.

*

It takes Lexa two weeks to simmer down; to be able to step into her apartment without wanting to hurl something against a wall. It scares her how violent her thoughts get. She shouldn't be the one feeling shame. She should be better than this; stoic and proud rather than a crumbling shell.

Her friends - Lincoln, Costia - try to help, but it's her cousin Anya's tough love that gets to Lexa. Anya doesn't eat ice cream with her or drag her to shitty comedies. She just tells her to get up and get over it. Lexa is grateful for the cold shower; grateful that Anya doesn't give Emma a second thought (doesn't even mention her once).

Slowly, Lexa settles back into a routine. Her anger ebbs. Her heart still feels heavy but that's something she can learn to work around. It helps to focus on her clients. She puts things in perspective: at least she never proposed. At least she's only got an ex-girlfriend, not an ex-wife.

Swimming is what helps the most. Lexa hasn't gone to the pool in weeks because of her hectic schedule, but as soon as she gets in the water she feels at home. It's like her worries can be left outside for an hour. Swimming helps her focus. It's a way to feel in control and it's a way to fight the sluggishness that settled in her body for far too long.

The apartment doesn't seem so empty anymore and Lexa can feel herself move on. Her heart beats steadily again. When her sleeping schedule is back on track, she decides to switch her swimming routine back to 7am. She's always preferred the quiet of the early morning to the evening rush.

But the world decides to slap her in the face on a Monday morning.

Lexa is twenty minutes into her front crawl when someone blonde and leggy casually walks by the side of the pool. One glance at her face and Lexa feels like someone punched her in the stomach. Water gets in her mouth and she starts to cough, awkwardly making her way toward the ladder.

It hits her why Emma's lover looked so familiar. She saw her before. She knows her from this very pool - from swimming in separate lanes, vague glimpses of blonde hair messily tucked under a swim cap, or passing each other in the locker room. Just another swimmer here, another blurry face she didn't think she'd ever see outside of this building.

The woman - Clarke - must realize the same thing, because it's just seconds later that she turns around and does a double take as Lexa pulls herself out of the water.

"Hey, wait! Please!"

Lexa shakes her hair free from her silicone cap and grabs her towel before walking out of the pool area as swiftly as possible. She's not going to wait but she won't run either. She's not about to slip on the tiles and make a fool of herself in front of her ex-girlfriend's lover.

Just as she makes it to the empty showers, the woman's voice echoes again. "Please. I just - I'm sorry."

"I don't care," Lexa hears herself say. The water in her ears sloshes and she wonders if maybe it's blood.

"I didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"You've got to be _kidding_ me," Lexa whirls around. "Are you seriously coming to me, and trying to play the victim?"

Clarke swallows hard, startled by the intensity in Lexa's eyes.

"I swear she didn't tell me."

"The pictures on the walls didn't ring any bells?"

"It was dark and—I'd had a few drinks—" Clarke flounders, realizing how it must sound. "She said her roommate was out of town."

Lexa almost laughs. A roommate? That's the best Emma could come up with?

"Well congratulations," Lexa tells her in a clipped tone, "She's all yours."

"I haven't seen her since and I don't intend to."

"Tough shit," Lexa mutters before stepping into a shower stall and sliding the curtain shut.

*

Clarke doesn't stop coming to the swimming pool.

Although Lexa tries hard to ignore her, it's like Clarke always ends up in her line of sight. Most of the time, Lexa thinks she does it on purpose. She catches her looking her way a lot, always with a kicked puppy expression before she glances away. Sometimes they'll be in the locker room and Clarke will whisper she's sorry again. Lexa is sick of it. If Clarke were so sorry, she'd go to another fucking pool.

It's not like Lexa hasn't considered doing just that herself. But why should she be the one to go? Why should she have to change her schedule? She's not the homewrecker. And she'll be damned if she lets Clarke take this from her, too.

So Lexa keeps going at 7am sharp; keeps swimming in her lane; keeps ignoring Clarke's looks and Clarke's legs and Clarke's absurdly tight blue one-piece.

But one time, on a Friday morning, when the stress of the week has piled onto her shoulders and not even swimming could help, Lexa is in a particularly rotten mood.

Clarke bumping into her in the locker room doesn't help one bit.

"Can't you watch where you're going?" Lexa snarls.

Clarke takes a step back and tightens her hold on her towel. "I'm sorry, I was just—"

"Just stop. Stop coming here, stop swimming next to me, and stop giving me your pathetic looks."

Clarke's nostrils flare. "You're not that special, all right?"

"Excuse me?"

"This is a public pool. I've come here every morning for the last six months and I don't intend to stop. Now you can keep treating me like dirt every time I so much as swim nearby, but I've already apologized to you a _hundred_ times for something that, frankly? I shouldn't even need to apologize for."

Lexa feels her blood boil. "You can't be serious."

Clarke pushes on. "I was lied to, _humiliated_ , and thrown out of an apartment without my underwear on. You think that was a good night for me?"

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"No, but maybe you can hate the woman who actually cheated on you instead of me."

"Oh I can do both," Lexa seethes.

"Well great! Congratulations!" Clarke snaps.

Lexa thinks she might burst from the anger coursing through her veins. She can feel Clarke's hot breath on her face, just as equally furious now. She thinks she might—

Two women suddenly chatter outside the locker room. Clarke jolts and steps back, her breath hitching in her throat. Lexa gives her one last look before grabbing her bag and leaving.

*

Lexa hasn't been able to get rid of the tightness in her body. The weekend feels horribly long and she works herself to the bone, hoping for time to pass more quickly. She double and triple checks the same papers and the same files. She orders flowers to be sent out for Anya's birthday the following month. She cleans the apartment and stocks the fridge. She's nothing if not diligent.

But she still has an itch to scratch. Her body is tense and as a result she feels so easily irritable. It's like she's back at square one, only it's different. This time she's not drained - she has too much energy to spare.

On Monday morning she's at the pool at 6am, the very minute it opens. She pushes herself hard. At one point she catches herself looking around, but she doesn't recognize anyone.

She goes to work feeling much better. 6am it is.

*

A few weeks later, Lexa starts to feel the consequences of her new routine. With her firm taking on more cases, her weekends have been shortened and she's living on coffee and take-out food. She misses the extra hour of sleep. It's taken its toll on her mood - again.

Lexa starts skipping the pool a few times a week. It works - at first. Her body enjoys the extra sleep, but at the same time she misses swimming in the morning. It's like she can't get it right.

So Lexa gives in. She goes back to the 7am schedule; back to what worked best. Ten minutes into her backstroke she spots Clarke two lanes away from hers, but Clarke doesn't see her and Lexa keeps to herself after that.

As the days pass, Lexa finds herself looking Clarke's way a few times. One time she's diving from the starting blocks. Another time she's picking up her towel and walking away toward the showers.

But she never looks back at Lexa.

It gets under her skin.

But fine. Just fine.

Lexa can ignore her, too.

*

Costia and Lincoln finally convince her to take a night off. They drag her to a club underground, which honestly Lexa feels a little out of place in. It's sweaty and loud and, based on the amount of straight people sucking face, definitely not her crowd. But she missed her friends and she missed letting loose.

Two hours into dancing and doing shots, Lexa has an urge to go to the restroom. She makes her way through the dancing bodies and slides into the small corridor, where she pushes the door to the restroom open. She bumps straight into someone, knocking over her purse. She hurries to pick it up.

"I'm so sorr—" she cuts herself off, eyes widening when she sees Clarke.

Clarke grabs her purse and freezes. Their eyes lock. Lexa finds it unsettling, after days of Clarke not catching her gaze. Finally she steps aside and lets Clarke pass without a word.

But that itch is back again. Lexa feels her body spark to life.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she calls out, well aware how imperious she sounds. She doesn't know why she does it, just that she needs to get Clarke's attention.

Clarke swivels around. Her eyes are like steel.

"Fuck you, Lexa."

*

Lexa goes to the pool feeling the full effects of her hangover. She can't believe she drank so much.

She tries to swim it off, but it's like the booze is still in her pores. She goes underwater more than usual, swimming until her lungs beg for air. When she resurfaces, it's almost like getting high.

When she's done, she goes up the ladder and takes off her silicone cap. She stops when she catches Clarke walking toward the side to grab her towel. She's just taken off her hair tie and there are still drops of water sliding down her collarbone, into her cleavage.

When Clarke finally looks back at Lexa, her eyes are teeming with fire. She takes her time wrapping her towel around her chest and then turns around. As she makes her way out of the pool area, Lexa feels the urge to follow. All she can think is, where the _fuck_ does Clarke get off being the angry one?

She catches up to Clarke in the empty shower room, only stopping when Clarke spins around and inhales sharply.

Lexa doesn't know what she's doing, only that she can't look away. Clarke's breathing picks up and Lexa can't take it anymore. She's on her a second later, kissing her with every ounce of anger bursting to life.

Clarke responds with equal fervor, fingers digging into Lexa's hips. Lexa pushes her into a shower stall, shutting the curtain closed. She hears Clarke hiss when her back hits the cold tiles, but she still presses her up against it, presses her hips closer.

The sudden urge to take this woman overwhelms her. She has to know what's so fucking special about her that Emma couldn't stop herself. And maybe this is revenge - she can be reckless too. She's going to make Clarke wish it was _her_ that took her home, her that fucked her into the mattress, her that marked her skin.

Clarke lets out a loud moan in her mouth, her breasts heaving tortuously against hers. Lexa twists the shower knob to cover her noises, shivering when the cold water hits her first. It heats up fast, but honestly Lexa can't be bothered to care.

She pulls down Clarke's swimsuit, revealing her breasts, her stomach, and every inch of her until the fabric drops to the floor. Clarke doesn't give her the time to stare, pulling her into another bruising kiss. Lexa gives in for a minute, tongue hot against Clarke's, then down her neck, where she bites and sucks, feeling Clarke tremble against her.

Lexa needs to feel more, needs to get rid of the anger that's invaded her body for too long. She takes hold of Clarke's waist and turns her around, pushing her against the wall. Clarke lets out a sharp moan before muffling the ones that follow into the back of her hand.

Lexa steps between her legs and leans flush against her, breasts pressed against Clarke's back. She almost wishes she had her strap-on, if only to be able to keep both hands on Clarke's hips as she fucks her.

She kneads one of Clarke's breasts while her dominant hand makes its way between Clarke's legs, groaning when she feels how wet she is. Clarke swears into her hand, eyes screwed shut.

Lexa doesn't want to waste any time. She penetrates Clarke with two fingers and pumps into her hard and fast. She starts to feel dizzy - the best kind there is; dizzy from the heat and from giving into her sexual urges.

"Lexa!"

It almost stuns Lexa to hear her own name. She didn't think it could sound so fucking good. She needs to hear it again, like an addict with a new drug. She slows down her thrusts.

"Say it again," she rasps in her ear.

Clarke's fingers curl against the shower wall. "Don't stop—Lexa, please."

Lexa groans and rubs tight circles against Clarke's clit. She pushes her fingers deep inside her and picks up the pace again, needing to see Clarke unravel. It doesn't take long - she feels Clarke clench hard around her, so tight and hot and -

Clarke comes with a loud cry, unable to completely muffle the sound in her hand. She pants against the tiles and reaches down to grasp Lexa's hand, keeping it between her legs. It's oddly intimate and Lexa has to stop herself from kissing up her neck and whispering encouragement in her ear, allowing Clarke to come down gently.

Clarke isn't her girlfriend.

Somehow, the thought sobers Lexa right up.

As Clarke's breathing starts to slow down again, Lexa lets go of her and steps back. There are a few seconds when she doesn't know what to do or what to say. What is there to say? She just fucked her ex-girlfriend's ex-lover in a grimy shower stall.

That's all this is ever going to be.

She got it out of her system - fucked the residual anger away. 

When Clarke seems to regain her senses again, she turns around and stares up at her with wide, searching eyes. Lexa can see every droplet of water on Clarke's face, has to fight against the urge to kiss that sinful, tempting mouth. But Clarke looks too vulnerable now. The steel in her eyes is gone, replaced by uncertainty.

It's too much.

Lexa grabs her towel and steps out of the shower stall. 


End file.
